


Beautiful Boy

by xogillete



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (2014)
Genre: F/M, Light Gamora/Peter Quill, Other, Song fic, kink meme fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 20:53:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2202732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xogillete/pseuds/xogillete
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darling, darling, darling, darling Peter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beautiful Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another kink meme fill: "One of the songs on Awesome Mix #2 was "Beautiful Boy" by John Lennon."  
> http://guardian-kink.livejournal.com/1806.html?thread=493070#t493070

_close your eyes, have no fear,_  
 _the monster's gone and your daddy's here_  
 _beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy_  
  
"I wanna hear a daddy story!"  
  
The time has gone so fast. It feels like only weeks ago she was in the delivery room, cradling her precious new gift, and now here he was, five years old and ready to take on the world. Decades could pass, and she was sure that Peter would never tire from hearing the thrilling tales about his father.

Meredith makes her way on to his bed and tilts her head, thinking of a story to tell. She smiles. "How 'bout the one where daddy brought you to me?"  
  
The boy kicks eagerly beneath the sheets, his face entirely lit up. "I love that one!"  
  
"Well, me and your daddy were mighty happy, just the two of us," she begins, reaching out to cup her boy's face, "but something was missin'."

"Me!"  
  
"That's right, baby!" She laughs, nodding her head along with him. "Now you know your daddy, always travelin' in that space ship of his, pickin' out pretty little moon rocks for me. But one day, he decided to pick something else up. Something much brighter than any old moon rock."  
  
Her body is tired. Her bones creak. She can't get out of bed without a crutch anymore, and she continues to blame it on a bad flu. Meredith rises slowly from the mattress, doing her best to hide the aches. Her dainty fingers form twisted patterns, imitating the constellations in the sky. "Your daddy rounded up all the brightest stars he could find and brought 'em all together, real close like. And you know what happened next?"  
  
Peter knows, but he asks every time. His eyes widen as he raises the sheets to cover his mouth. "What?"  
  
She dives onto the bed, tickling him until he's completely out of breath. " _You_ were born! My darlin' little Peter was born." His innocent laugh is infectious, perfect. She catches herself giggling. Peter edges off the wall and makes room for his mother to lay beside him. The fascination remains on his face. He is waiting, and Meredith knows it all too well.  
  
"When your daddy brought you to me," she says softly, "I thought oh my goodness, what a precious little angel. And your daddy said 'he ain't no angel, he's a star!' And that's when I knew. That's when I knew you were my baby." The back of her palm brushes the hair out of his face, and in that instant she is reminded of Jason, so much so that it takes her a moment to finish her thought.   
  
"My little Star-Lord."  
  
 _before you go to sleep, say a little prayer,_  
 _every day in every way, it's getting better and better_  
 _beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy_

* * *

  
"You sure got your ass kicked out there, boy." Yondu says flatly, hovering above him and viewing him as though he were some sort of exhibit. "I ain't never seen nothin' so foolish in my whole dang life."  
  
Peter lies on the exam table, poking at his bruises. He'd finally been allowed to accompany the Ravagers on a mission, and got his ass handed to him within the first few minutes of the heist. He had let that smart mouth get the best of him again and ended up taking a few blows. If it hadn't been for Kraglin being near by, the boy probably wouldn't have made it to the ICU.  
  
The medic has long gone and has advised all visitors to let the child rest, but Yondu wasn't having it. He  _told_ Peter to stay close, to not wander off and make a fool of himself, and the latter was just about the only thing he did. This Terran runt made a mistake, and he was going to make sure he knew it.  
  
"The  _hell_  you thought you could do, huh?" Yondu continues, folding his arms. "Insult 'em to death? Distract 'em with that pretty boy face?"  
  
Peter hasn't said a word since the incident. Blue eyes meet red, then lower to his hands clasped over his chest.   
  
Yondu doesn't like to be ignored. He is aware his question is rhetorical, but the fact that Peter cannot look him in the eye is unacceptable. Before he can look up again, a blue hand slaps him hard across the face. It stings, but it's nothing compared to the pain in his chest, the limpness in his arms. It strikes him as odd, actually, because Yondu has hit him much harder before.  
  
"You keep up that reckless behavior of yours, son, and let me tell you..."  
  
Peter's always been "boy", "runt", "kid". There were times he didn't even answer to 'Peter', because he'd gotten so use to Yondu's titles for him. It's the first time he's been called "son" in a long time, and it makes his head jerk up in a trice.  
  
Yondu wears a sharp grin. "You just might have what it takes to be a pirate."  
  
 _out on the ocean, sailing away,_  
 _i can hardly wait, to see you come of age,_  
 _but i guess we'll both just have to be patient,_  
 _cause it's a long way to go, a hard row to hoe_

* * *

He shows a vivid interest in her, something no one's ever done before. He'd made a game of it, inviting her to the ship deck every night and asking her ridiculous questions. Gamora has made it routine to give him one word answers. Oddly enough, he doesn't mind, and continues to ask her the most childish things regardless of her short replies. 

  
"Be honest: do you or do you  _not_  know all the lyrics to Piña Coladas?"  
  
"No."  
  
"What's your favorite color?"  
  
"White."  
  
His brows furrow. "It's not green?"  
  
The look she throws him could kill a lesser man. "No."  
  
He shrugs, then resumes his hopeless study. "Favorite Terran food?"  
  
"Hamburgers." She replied to that one a lot quicker than she'd meant to. There's a familiar warmness in her cheeks, and Peter's been with too many women not to notice it.  
  
"Pictured you more of a hot dog fan to be totally honest," he says with a grin, "but alright. Who do you think could win in a fist fight, me or Drax?"  
  
"Drax, easily." His magnetism is getting to her. How long as she been smiling? She made a promise not to be a victim to his petty charm, and yet here she was, anxious for more queries. "Was that an honest question?"  
  
"Uh, _yes_?" He sounds almost hurt. "And I could totally take him down."  
  
"Really."  
  
"Yeah! He's just gotta be shitfaced. And tied down. Maybe a little unconscious."  
  
They both laugh. They loll in silence for a while, and Gamora can't help but want to answer another question. It's turned into a pleasant experience, having someone want to know so much about you. It's an intimacy she's never had. "Have I quenched your thirst for knowledge of my being already? It's only been an hour."   
  
Peter turns to look at her and smiles. It's light, and for a second she's debating on whether it's there or not. "When you wanted to take my hand, back there, with Ronan," it takes some time for him to word, to put into a question, to swallow. "What did you think was going to happen? To us."  
  
It's a lot heavier than anything's he thrown at her before. She wants to ask what brought it on, but she knows better. "When I saw you...come apart, shattering...I assumed I would shatter with you."  
  
Peter's smile falls. He's at a loss, he doesn't understand. "And you were okay with that? Shatter—" His lips purse. He rephrases it in a more blunt approach. " _Dying_ with me?"  
  
Gamora nods, a hand reaching out to touch his shoulder. "I was. I am. We all are, I think."  
  
More silence. She lets him take it in, before adding, "I'd much rather disintegrate in your hold than at the hands of Ronan."  
  
He chuckles. It's the sincerest sound she's ever heard. "Good to know."  
  
 _before you cross the street, take my hand,_  
 _life is just what happens to you,_  
 _while you're busy making other plans_  
 _beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy_


End file.
